


If I Can Live Through This

by Cocopops1995



Series: 300 Followers Special [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little gore, Blood, Champion Shiro, Gen, Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Whump, arena battles, shiro's lost year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:42:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cocopops1995/pseuds/Cocopops1995
Summary: “How the hell did you survive that?”Shiro smiles humorlessly. “They underestimated me and that was their biggest mistake.”





	If I Can Live Through This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_fearsome_thing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fearsome_thing/gifts).



> For my 300 Follower Special. "How the hell did you survive that?" "They underestimated me and that was their biggest mistake" requested by @thehouseofthebrave (a_fearsome_thing)

He knows seconds before he’s hit that he was too slow. He manages to pull his head far enough back to avoid a killing blow, but the blade still cuts deep into the flesh and bone just below his eyes. He cries out in pain and crashes to the ground. 

The pain sears through his entire head and down his neck and into his shoulders. It’s disorientating and dizzying and he just barely manages to roll out of the way of a second blow that would surely have killed him. He pushes himself to his feet in the next instant and propels himself as far away from his opponent as he can. 

The crowd roars their disapproval, but it’s no more than white noise in the background to Shiro. He needs space to breathe. To regain his bearings and find a way to end this fight quickly, he knows he won’t survive otherwise. 

Once he’s on the other side of the arena, he turns back to face his opponent, painting and shaking from the exertion. Blood streams down his face, warm and sticky. At the same time it pours down his throat, fast and thick, and he has to keep spitting to keep from choking on it. 

His opponent has slowed down, possibly out of fatigue, but more likely because they no longer view Shiro as a threat. 

Good. He can use that to his advantage. 

His opponent is a huge humanoid alien, covered with a metal-like exoskeleton, and armed with two deadly blades, one of which now drips with blood from the wound in Shiro’s face. 

Shiro’s own blade hasn’t been able to penetrate the exoskeleton at all, but he thinks he’s found a weakness. It was what he’d been trying to get close enough to strike at when he’d been hit. He’d been too focused on landing a hit and failed to notice the coming blade - a mistake he definitely wouldn’t be making again. 

His opponent finally reaches him, and Shiro can see that they’ve dropped their guard. They’re sure that Shiro’s too injured to put up much more of a fight - and that will be their downfall. 

Shiro lets them get close and then, as they’re raising their arm to land the final blow - slow and deliberate to please the crowd - Shiro strikes. 

Adrenaline courses through his body and with all the speed and strength he can muster, he launches him forward, blade aimed at the sliver of flesh peeking out from a narrow chink in his opponent’s armour. His opponent is caught by surprise and has no time to block. 

Shiro’s blade finds its mark, sinking deep into the soft flesh beneath the hard exoskeleton. His opponent rears back with a piercing scream. Seconds later they fall to the ground as the last dregs of life leaks out of them.

The crowd goes wild, delighted to have witnessed the Champion making another kill.

It makes Shiro sick to his stomach - the feeling only intensified by the blood that continues to pour down his throat from the wound in his face - but he forces the sickness down, not willing to show any weakness in the arena. 

The guards come in to escort him out. As they do, the adrenaline drains away and he becomes all too aware of the various aches and pains in his body, but above and beyond that, he feels the wound in his face. It burns and screams at every step Shiro takes, at every breath he pulls in through his mouth, all too quickly it becomes all too much. The pain overwhelms him and he passess out before they even reach the infirmary. 

\---

He wakes up cold and gasping, and crashes to his hands and knees in the next moment. He’s confused. Where is he? What’s happening?

Large hands grab his arms and haul him roughly to his feet. He gets a look at the furry, purple aliens that are manhandling him and it all comes rushing back to him. Being abducted. The Galra. The arena. The fight. The burn of cold steel biting into his flesh sears through his mind, and he fights down a shudder as the guards practically drag him back to his cell. 

Once there, the guards shove him into his cell and he crashes to the ground, still unsteady on his legs from the effects of that healing machine they’d had him in. The guards only laugh at him as they slam the door shut. Pain radiates from the the bridge of his nose and he bites back a pained groan, closing his eyes as he waits for it to subside again. 

A soft rumble comes from the back corner of his cell, followed by the shuffling of feet, and then another set of hands start helping him sit up and lean against the cell wall. He pulls his eyes open to look at his cellmate, a small tan-coloured lizard-like alien named Yorak.

When the guards had thrown the little creature into his cell, they’d called him a ‘gift for the Champion,’ apparently for winning so many battles. Shiro had balked at the idea. He fought only to survive and the Galra rewarded that by giving him a slave - from the ranks of prisoners that were either too old or too frail to work in the labour camps anymore. 

Yorak had been terrified of Shiro - of the Champion - at first, but once he figured out that Shiro had no interest in treating him like a slave, he calmed down considerably, and Shiro found himself actually getting along with the little guy. 

Shiro treated Yorak with kindness, and Yorak did the same in return - doing whatever he could to help Shiro rest and recuperate after his battles in the arena. 

“Thanks.” he croaks out to Yorak. 

Yorak grunts in reply and hands him a cup of water, eyeing Shiro’s face critically. “Difficult fight.”

It’s not a question and Shiro merely grunts in reply and then takes a sip of the water. It feels like heaven on his throat and he has to bite back another groan of relief. 

Once he’s done drinking, Yorak takes the cup from him and then reaches for his face, inspecting the freshly healed wound across the bridge of his nose. Shiro doesn’t know what his face looks like, but he’s sure he has a huge scar there now. 

Yorak’s fingers stray over the more sensitive part of the scar, sending spikes of pain up and down Shiro’s sinuses, causing him to flinch away. 

Yorak snatches his fingers away. “Apologies.”

“It’s fine.” Shiro mumbles.

Yorak continues to study his face, though, and eventually sighs and asks: “How the hell did you survive that?”

Shiro smiles humorlessly. “They underestimated me and that was their biggest mistake.”

Shiro’s eyes slips closed and he murmurs: “That’s my secret. They always underestimate me.”

Yorak says something in reply, but the exhaustion catches up with Shiro and pulls him into a deep sleep before he can even register the words.


End file.
